Loomian Legacy Veils of Shadow

A Brief Lucas Interlude!

The air smelled delicious. Lucas had to stop to breathe it in. This was the brand-new noodle shop, Colosso-Chops that had recently opened a week ago. He'd been waiting to try it ever since he heard about it. Lucas looked around. The restaurant was modestly busy, but it wasn't overwhelming. A soft glow illuminated the interior, and two red columns stretched to the ceiling. It kind of reminded him of Heiwa Village. He had caught Lissen outside of a restaurant that looked similar to the one he stood in now.

Soon, a waiter came to greet him and show him to his booth. As Lucas sat down and ordered his drink, an orange soda, he couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt. He had already eaten multiple times today, but here he was, ready to devour another meal. He was supposed to be searching for information that would help his friend and make Roria safer, not sitting in a restaurant like the glutton he was. Lucas fidgeted his hat before taking it off completely and setting it down on the far end of the table.

Trying to push away his guilty conscious, Lucas picked up the menu and began to scan it. He froze, and his guilt evaporated when his eyes landed on a special deal. In celebration of its grand opening, the restaurant offered a free, five-pound noodle bowl to whoever could beat the Master Chef in a battle. Lucas' eyes began to bulge when he read who the Master Chef was, Andrew Anderson. He was a former champion of the Roria Culinary League for over a decade. He defended his title year after year. The man was a legend within the culinary community. Lucas did a double-take and re-read the offer. Then, he read it again. Once he confirmed the name, he set the menu down on the table.

What is he doing here? Lucas asked himself. After Andrew was finally toppled, he settled down in Atlanthian City, but Lucas never expected him to be the head chef of a local noodle shop. For the moment, Lucas forgot everything about the stones or his friends. All that mattered was meeting Andrew Anderson, and if possible, beat him, and then, learn from him. How hard could it be? Lucas thought. Sure, he wasn't as strong or skilled as Thane and Jake, or even his sister, but he wasn't incompetent. He had beaten that strange Loomian at the rental house on his own, after all. He could take whatever Anderson threw at him. The man was known for his culinary prowess, not his battle prowess.

So, when the waiter returned with his drink, Lucas cleared his throat before continuing shyly. "Sir, I, um-" Lucas cleared his throat again. "I would like to try and take on the chef. Uh, battle the chef for the five-pound bowl." The waiter smiled down at Lucas, but it didn't seem to be entirely genuine. "Of course, I'll be back shortly to escort you to the field." He said before turning around and walking away again.

After a few minutes that seemed to stretch on forever, the man finally returned. "Andrew is waiting outside, sir." The man told Lucas as he picked up the menu and drink off the table. "Please follow me to the battlefield out back. It will be a three-on-three battle with me serving as referee." Lucas nodded wordlessly, his mouth suddenly incredibly dry. Before he could ask for his drink back for a quick sip, the waiter turned, and Lucas was forced to follow him.

As Lucas was led out of the dining area, past the kitchen, and into a hallway, sweat started to run down his forehead. He prayed it wasn't noticeable, but he couldn't help it. Andrew Anderson was a legend in the culinary community, even outside of Roria. Lucas was still mentally reeling from the shock of learning that he was the head chef of a humble little noodle shop after a decade on the throne.

As the pair reached a door at the end of the hallway, the waiter opened the door and stepped aside to let Lucas pass. "Be warned, sir, the chef is in a great mood. You're in for a tough fight because no one can beat him when he's in such a mood." Lucas nodded, acknowledging the warning. As the blonde-haired boy stepped out into the city, his breath caught in his throat. There he was. Andrew Anderson stood in the center of the field. He had aged, but he still looked physically capable. He had warm features but radiated sternness and his experience and skills demanded respect. He wore all black, further oozing a commanding presence.